Pieces Scattered by the Wind
by Akane Nyx
Summary: One-shots filling in where scenes between Shikamaru and Temari left off. Will include scenes from filler arcs. Chapters will vary in lenght. Rating may change later. Irregular updates.
1. Beginings

_For this entire serries, assume that the characters are closer to the age that they seem than the age that they are.  
(I'm picturing Shikamaru being about 15 or 16 in this first scene, others can be adjusted from there)_

* * *

**Takes place after the hospital scene in episode 135.**

* * *

Shikamaru wandered through the darkened streets of Konoha.

In the end he'd had to put all of his trust in his teammates. All of his strategizing had been nothing. Absolutely nothing. He kicked a loose pebble, sending it down the street. He'd let them down.

He'd let them all down. He was smart enough to see that.

Everyone would survive. He supposed that he should take some comfort in that. Given the circumstances they could have faired far worse. Things could have ended worse under another leader: no comfort there either. He had come very near to getting his best friend killed, not to mention the others. And if someone had died it would have been for nothing because they had failed.

He shuddered when he thought about what might have happened if the Sand Shinobi hadn't shown up when they did. Not that he had liked being rescued by a girl, but he was grateful. He supposed that being saved by _her_ wasn't so bad when the alternative would almost certainly have been him being killed by a girl wielding a flute.

These kunoichi were troublesome: fighting with flutes and fans. Bah! He kicked at another stone. It wouldn't be so bad if they weren't so good at it.

His wandering continued. It was too overcast to see the stars and too dark to see the clouds. The streets were dark, save the Hokage's offices, the hospital, and one house a few blocks down the street from him.

He knew that he should go home, but facing his mother after his failures wasn't very high on his to-do list.

Again he looked at the illuminated house, less than a block away now. It took him a moment to realize which street he was on. He was a poor excuse for a shinobi, to be so unaware of his surroundings. It was the house reserved for guests of the Hokage. There was no doubt in his mind who would be occupying it tonight. The front of the house was dark except for one upstairs window. The rest of the light came from the back of the lower level.

It was just his luck to have passed this way. Perhaps Gaara would step out to give him a piece of his mind, or worse, for being so much bother. He sent another stone flying down the street. He was so unable to handle his own responsibilities that Gaara and his siblings had to travel the whole way from Suna to clean up his mess.

He made the mistake of looking up at the illuminated window as he passed. Leaning out of the window was the only thing worse than facing his mother or running into Gaara.

Temari.

If he had been perfectly honest with himself, he would have admitted that Temari was beautiful, albeit in a deadly sort of way. She was much like a poisonous flower or a jewel-colored viper. A woman like that was bound to be troublesome.

There was something different about her just now. It took him a moment to realize that her hair wasn't restrained by its usual four bands. It was fairly long, but still stuck out everywhere, creating a halo of gold that made her look softer somehow. Not that there was anything soft about Temari.

He'd been staring. For how long, he didn't know. She waved at him and as reflex he waved back.

She leaned out the window a little further. "Come up for a drink?" she asked. Her voice was far softer than it had been in the forest or waiting in the hall of the hospital.

He was shocked, unsure of what to say, so he just shrugged and stepped toward the door.

"No!" she called in a forced whisper, and beckoned him in the window.

He took a deep breath and lunged upwards. For a moment he sat on the sill, with his feet dangling over the street, questioning his sanity.

"Kankuro is downstairs in the kitchen, cleaning the blood out of his puppet," she explained. "I don't think that seeing you would improve his mood."

He looked over his shoulder at her, as though demanding further explanation.

"My little brothers are a wee bit overprotective."

"Oh," he said, tensing his arms to push himself back onto the street.

"Come in and have a seat. Don't let them dissuade you," something in her voice told him that he didn't have a choice.

He swung his legs across the windowsill and stood up inside. It was a simple room. The wooden floor was bare. To his right were a bed and a small table with a clock and a lamp. To his left was a chair. Directly across from the chair was the door. To the right of the door was a large dresser, which took up the rest of the wall. Temari's fan hung on a rack above the bed. He thought that there would be artwork on the walls or at least a rug on the floor, but the room was barren.

He eased himself into the chair, sitting with his elbows on his knees and his face in his hands.

"Tea? Or something a little stronger?" she offered.

This wasn't a question that he'd ever had to answer before. Asking for tea would perhaps make him look like a wimp. Opting for the 'something stronger' could either make him look like an alcoholic or a fool. He'd never had alcohol before and was unsure of the effect it would have on him. For all he knew, he might be like Lee. He looked up and shrugged. "I'll have what you're having."

She laughed softly as his response. It seemed so typical of him. Temari walked over to the dresser and drew a bottle and two glasses from the top drawer. She poured them both a glass of sake and set the bottle on the dresser.

"Tea is not for celebrating," she justified, handing him a glass.

He didn't take it. "Celebrating! What is there to celebrate?" He flew off into an angry rant at full force. His voice was low and harsh. "The mission was a complete failure. My teammates were injured. My best friend almost _died_. The Hokage had to drag you three in to clean up my mess. You tell me just what I'm supposed to be celebrating." He looked at her again with steely eyes.

Her face softened a bit more. She gently placed the glass in his hand and then leaned down, their faces inches apart, to look him in the eyes. "We're still alive. Your friends will all recover." She shrugged. "What else is there?"

"Success. Everyone walking away unscathed."

"It doesn't usually work that way. They'll forgive you – probably already have. Now you have to forgive yourself." She retreated to the bed, reclining back against the pillows and headboard. She raised her glass, "To satisfactory results."

He raised his and countered, "To next time's perfection."

She smiled, taking a sip. He followed her lead. The burn surprised him, but he didn't find it unpleasant. A sort of warmth settled in as he drank, causing him to unzip his vest.

She didn't notice. He took the opportunity to study her. This was not the same girl that he'd dueled with in the exams. This was not the same woman that had fought beside, or for, him against the sound ninja. This was not even the same woman who'd sat across from him as he'd waited for news on Chouji, doling out harsh comments and criticisms. She was almost an entirely different person. Perfectly at ease – almost like someone who'd never witnessed violence, let alone inflicted damage herself.

She sat there, sipping down her drink. Her hair looked incredibly soft, with the way that it stuck out everywhere. Her eyes were closed, and a light smile played on her full lips. Her deep purple kimono was not drawn as tight around her throat as it probably should have been in his company. The hem fell above her knees. Her legs were bare and smooth, her ankles crossed.

He could admit it to himself now: she was beautiful.

She cupped her empty glass in her surprisingly delicate-looking hands. He turned up his glass to drain the remainder. His thought turned to the liquid that pleasantly heated his throat. He felt no ill effects. He was not going to go crazy like Lee. If anything, the alcohol had slowed down his overworked mind. That was a comfort, as was her calm presence.

"May I?" he asked. She opened her eyes briefly as he motioned toward the bottle.

She nodded and held her glass out for him to refill, gesturing with her fingertips that she only wanted a little bit. He poured them both half a glass.

Instead of returning to the chair, he sat on the edge of the bed, facing away from her, staring at the wall. After a few very long moments he asked, "So, why did you invite me in?"

"You looked like you could use a friend. Someone who wouldn't judge you."

"You already did," his voice was colder and sharper than he intended.

"What I said at the hospital was true. But I suppose it was more about keeping up appearances. Mostly mine."

He looked up at her, the confusion showing on his face. "I don't follow." For a genius he wasn't doing a very good job of keeping up with this woman's thought processes.

"We're supposed to be tough, but anyone would have felt the way that you did. Anyone with a heart at least." Suddenly a change came into her voice. It was yet another thing that he didn't understand. Her voice was almost pleading. "Shikamaru, don't give up on this. Don't throw away all of your training. You're far too good to walk away from it and it'll only be worse for others if you do. Your father was right about that much."

He finished his drink. "He was right about everything," he said, thinking about his father's remark about him not being a man. He was weak and he knew it.

It was almost as though she read his mind. She sat up and gently laid her hand along his cheek. "Don't lie to yourself. You're one of the bravest men I know."

Was this the alcohol talking? Was the sake to blame for the warmth that was spreading through him? 'No,' he decided: on both accounts.

She was looking at him almost expectantly. He was locked in the gaze of the deadly angel. His breath caught. He grasped intent, but reason eluded him. No man, no genius, could fully understand this from Temari. His hand shook as he reached to touch her face. He was afraid: Maybe more afraid than when waiting for news on Chouji; possibly more afraid than he had been right before Temari had knocked Tayuya from the limb. It was a different sort of fear though: a thrilling sort. It ripped though him as he started to lean toward her.

He faltered. He realized that he had no idea what he was doing. He retreated a small distance to think things out. She closed the distance. Their lips met.

This was the last thing that he thought would happen to him tonight, but suddenly it all made sense. He knew why people went into battle. He knew why some things were worth fight for, even worth dying for.

He felt her crazy hair between his fingers. He was running purely on instincts. He felt her fingers on his chest though the mesh of his shirt. That brought him back to reality. He pulled away, grinning sheepishly. This was awkward: almost magical, but awkward. He felt drunk in a way that had nothing do with sake.

She pulled her legs underneath her, resting back on her heels. Her hands lay on her thighs. She bit her lip and looked down at her hands, blushing. "I… I'm so… sorry…" she stammered. "I've never … done that before. I… um… I don't know what… came over me. Ah… I…"

Her words were cut off by the return of his lips. He didn't let his mind wander this time. There was nothing on earth but her right now. Soft, warm lips: the taste below the sake was both salty and sweet. The feel of her through the silky kimono as his fingers trailed up her spine. The way she shuddered when his fingertips grazed the bare skin of her neck. The fiery sensation of her hands on his skin. It was all too much.

She was the one to pull away this time. She sat back against the headboard, as though she needed its support. She looked a bit dazed, almost starry-eyed. He wondered if his face mirrored hers. The smile that spread across her lips was almost victorious. She laughed softly.

He smelt the smile drop away from his face. Had he done something terribly wrong? He was completely inexperienced, but he didn't know about her past, or if the instincts that he'd let guide him were right. "Go easy on my ego, Temari," he warned. He'd meant for the words to come out jokingly but they hadn't.

For the first time that night, she was the confused one. She looked at him quizzically, her laughter coming to an abrupt halt.

"You don't have to be so damn happy about being better than me at this too," he snapped.

"It's not exactly like I know what I'm doing." He felt a surge of embarrassment. He hadn't meant to admit to his inexperience. He glared at her.

Normally Temari would have taken such a glare as a challenge, but instead her face softened. She moved toward him, smiling sweetly. She was a living, breathing contradiction. He knew in that heartbeat that she would be the death of him. "Could have fooled me," her voice came out sounding like a purr. "But, I don't know what I'm doing either. Regardless, that's definitely not why I was laughing."

Something told him to not ask. It took nearly all his patience to stay quiet.

"It's just that… if I'd have know you'd… react so… enthusiastically, I might have said something sooner."

He felt a cocky smirk come to his face. "So that's why you really invited me up," he teased.

She looked horrified. "No," she gasped. "I just wanted to see you… happier."

He wrapped his arms around her, pulling her close. "I believe you've succeeded," he whispered in her ear.

It was about half an hour later when he felt her start to nod off against his chest. He gently laid her back on the bed and covered her up. She protested until he pointed to the clock on beside table. Then she gave him a resigned smile and a little nod.

He turned off the lamp and had taken another half step toward the window when he changed his mind. He turned back to her bed and kissed her gently before disappearing out the window and into the night.

He traveled back to his home quickly: hoping with all of his might that his mother would not be waiting up for him. That thought aside, he was surprisingly happy. He knew he might ought be mortified by the happenings of the last couple hours. He let it play back through his mind now. He'd had his first drink while underage, on property that technically belonged to the Hokage. He'd had his first kiss with a beautiful, troublesome, dangerous woman. This woman was the daughter of the Kazekage and had two overprotective brothers that he couldn't bring himself to trust. He sighed, shaking his head. Perhaps he should regret it all, but he didn't.

As he crossed onto his parent's property, he paused to consider the house. The lights were all off – would the wonders of the night never cease. The front door screeched. There was a lose board in the hallway near the back door. He nearly laughed when he came to the decision. He would have to go in through his window. How ironic: one window that could get him into trouble, one that would keep him out of it.

The first sign that something was amiss should have been that his window was open. This thought didn't register in his genius mind until he was on the ledge. He looked in his room. There was his father, in the shadows, sitting on the bed.

"Come in son," he said. There was the slightest edge of amusement under his angry voice.

Shikamaru climbed the rest of the way in the window with a shrug. Before he could start toward his chest of drawers for a change of clothes, his father gestured for him to stand before him. Shikamaru stood with his hands jammed down in his pockets, trying to look disinterested as his father studied him intently.

Shikaku finally spoke, "Is it the sake or the woman that has you so distracted?" Most of the anger in his voice had been replaced by amusement and curiosity.

For once Shikamaru decided against the path of least resistance, though he wasn't sure why at the time. "What sake?"

"I can smell it."

"I'm not drunk. I had one glass."

"With the woman that has you so distracted?" he sounded like he was fighting off a laugh.

"What woman?"

His father raised an eyebrow and reached out to pull a blonde hair from his vest. He studied it in the dim light. "Hmmm… not quite what I expected."

Shikamaru stared blankly at his father.

"Ino's hair is longer and lighter than this," Shikaku clarified. He watched as his father ran through the mental list of the blondes that he knew. Suddenly he hit upon the right woman. "In the hospital… the one that insulted you… the girl from Suna." His father was laughing with the revelation.

Trying to play it cool, Shikamaru said, "Temari? Eh… She's a troublesome woman." He tried to sound dismissive, but he knew the slight blush in his cheeks was giving away the truth.

Shikaku clasped a heavy hand on his son's shoulder and gave him a knowing shake. "You wouldn't be a Nara if she wasn't. Now get some sleep. Your mother thinks that you were at the hospital late."

"You told her that when you watched me leave?" Shikamaru was stunned at the idea of his father lying to his mother for him.

"I didn't correct her when she assumed it. I'm not so sure I'd have wanted to face her either. But to opt for Temari!" He laughed again, leaving the room.


	2. Returns

**Takes place in the middle of episode 220.**

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The trip back to Konoha did not take as long as he thought it might. Shikamaru stayed beside Temari the whole way as she helped Kankuro support Gaara's weakened frame. He would have offered to trade her places if he'd felt she wouldn't be offended. Of course she was perfectly capable of taking care of her little brother and he didn't want to imply otherwise.

Every few hundred meters, Ino would look back over her shoulder. She'd glare at him suspiciously and then whisper to Chouji, who would shrug. He knew what was causing her concern: the smile that was plastered on his face. After watching the fight, seeing how well he and Temari had worked together, and then seeing him like this: she would be bombarding him with questions and accusations for weeks. He didn't care. He was, in fact, happy.

The city came into view. He leaned toward Temari to speak. "You know where the hospital is. Get Gaara settled in and then come find me," his words traveled no further than her ears. "I've got to report to Lady Tsunade and then make another stop or two. I should be above the Hokages in an hour or so. Leave Kankuro with Gaara. He looks exhausted too."

She knew he was asking that she come alone, as if she would have it any other way. He couldn't read her expression, but was relieved when she nodded in agreement.

He told the rest of the group that he was going ahead to check in with Tsunade and insisted that anyone with injuries, whether they had been treated in the field or not, should be taken directly to the hospital. Then he sped through the gates of Konoha.

It didn't take him long to find Tsunade, who was having an early dinner. He quickly told her that the mission was a success, but there were a few injuries coming to the hospital. She told him that a full written report was to be on her desk by noon the next day and then rushed to the hospital. Of course she would want to be there with Gaara being among the injured: as a show of concern for Suna if nothing else.

One stop down, one to go. He knew this would not be nearly as easy as reporting to Tsunade, but he felt compelled to try. It would mean divulging his secret. There wasn't really anyone else he could trust this to, or who would trust him as much as would be required. Luckily, Asuma was at home.

His sensei answered his door quickly and ushered him inside. "Shikamaru, what a surprise. Back so soon?"

"Yes, all went well."

"That's good news. What brings you here?"

Lying was too troublesome. "Honestly Sensei, I'm looking for someone who'll lend me two glasses and a bottle of sake for a very short period of time without asking any questions until I return them."

The usually cool Asuma reeled. "What?!" His cigarette fell out of his mouth and left a little burn mark on the wood floor.

"It's for a tradition. A toast."

"But…"

"It's not like I'm going to go getting drunk!"

"I know but you're underage. I could loose my job…. Or worse."

"I'm not breaking this tradition," Shikamaru said fiercely.

Asuma knew from the tone of his voice that if the only place in town that he could get two glasses of sake was from the Hokage's desk, that's where it would come from. "If you get caught…"

"I won't."

"But if you do..."

"I'll say I stole it," he said with a shrug.

Asuma winced at his student, wondering what had brought on this sudden change. "That was your back-up plan."

Shikamaru shrugged again, of course that would have been his next step.

Defeated, Asuma lead him to the kitchen. He poured sake into a small metal flask and pulled two small, cut-glass glasses from the cupboard. He hesitantly handed them to Shikamaru, who stashed them in the inner pockets of his vest.

Asuma waked him back to the front door, shaking his head. "This had better be a really entertaining explanation."

Shikamaru gave him a lazy smile. "It's not really."

He hurried toward the stand of trees above the sculpted faces of the Hokages. He realized that he was in a rush, but he didn't attribute it to wanting to see her. Instead he blamed it on not wanting to run into Ino and have to make explanations before he came up with a reasonable story.

He waited for Temari on one of the lower branches of a nearby tree. She wasn't far behind. He studied her as she leaned her fan against a nearby tree and then walked away from it, looking out over the village, watching the sun sink toward the horizon. He hopped down and dropped his vest beside her fan before walking up behind her. He was almost stunned with how much she trusted him.

When he reached her, he gently trailed his fingers down her arms. When his fingers found her wrists he wrapped his arms and hers around her waist and pulled her back against him. Her hair poked through the netting of his shirt. He bent to lay a kiss on her neck, but as he leaned in she turned and caught him on the lips.

"You'll be the death of me, you troublesome woman," he smiled through the complaint. He released all of her but one of her wrists and led her back into the cover of the trees. He grabbed his vest before going to sit down, leaning against a tree. She sat down between his knees and slumped back against his chest. The spark that they'd both felt on the battlefield remained, but was now untainted by adrenaline.

With one hand he rummaged in his vest, sat both glasses on the ground, unscrewed the flask, and poured them both a drink, keeping the other arm around her the whole time. He handed her a glass. She almost looked surprised. "To a successful mission," he said, raising his glass.

"To the leaf's strategist and his timing," she proclaimed, lifting her glass slightly and then taking a gulp. She suppressed a shudder. They both knew how close she'd been today.

"Temari, are you alright?" he had not been able to ask her earlier. They'd shown nothing in front of the others beyond the normal cool camaraderie.

"I'm fine now."

He held her a little tighter as they finished their drinks. The calm didn't come as quickly as it had last time. Only when she finally relaxed did he.

He sighed, not wanting this to end. "I shouldn't be keeping you. I'm sure you want to go check in on your brothers."

"When I left Gaara was resting peacefully and Kankuro was sleeping on the chair at the foot of his bed. I don't think I could handle that kind of silence right now," her voice sounded strained.

"Temari?" he knew he sounded worried.

"I know I'm supposed to be fearless and strong, alright, but I just don't want to be alone right now. Unless…"

"Unless what?"

"Unless you don't want me with you. Then I'll go."

"Don't be ridiculous. It's just that I've got to have a report on the Hokage's desk by noon."

She traced small circles on the back of his hand. "I could fill in some of the blanks," she ventured.

"We should get to work on that then." He was smiling, thinking of the last evening that they had spent together. He watched her untangle herself from his arms and stand, stretching before sliding her fan back onto her back. She was the same woman that she had been the night she'd had him up for a drink. He had thought that he would never see this side of her again, and yet here she was. She was beautiful, vulnerable, and innocent. She was all of the things that she wasn't around other people. She wasn't cocky or cruel or loud. He had the feeling that even her brothers didn't get to see her like this. This was _his _Temari. He wondered what he had done to deserve her.

She was watching him as he was studying her. She didn't understand the wonder on in his eyes or the smile on his face, but she liked it. No one else looked at her like that. It was as though he really saw _her_. Not the fearless kunoichi. Not the daughter of the Kazekage. Just her. He didn't care if she was scary and tactless and bold. He wasn't the least bit afraid of her. She liked that. Her kiss let him know it.

He smiled lazily as he collected their glasses and the half-full flask and stashed them in his vest. They walked through the woods hand in hand, but once they got to the edge of town they released one another. It was the same unspoken agreement that they'd had at the gate months ago. "We've got a couple stops to make." He said.

"Oh?"

"I've got a couple things to return," he said, patting his pocket, "and I'm sure you're hungry."

She smiled. "Famished."

"Ramen or barbecue?"

She smiled. "I'll have whatever you're having."

He smiled reminiscently, somehow pleased that she recalled such trivial details.

They paused at the ramen shop and took the order to go.

The next stop was bound to be more interesting. The lights were still on at Asuma's, so he stopped, softly knocking on the door. He leaned toward Temari as they waited, sneaking a kiss on her cheek.

Asuma answered the door, looking a bit flustered. "Shikamaru… so soon?" His eyes darted back and forth between his smiling student and Temari.

"I told you it wouldn't be long." He took the glasses and the flask from his pocket and handed them to his teacher. Asuma recognized the dumb smile on Shikamaru's face. "Temari-chan this is Asuma-sensei."

His words caught up with him and they all stood there for a moment, thinking on what he had said.

Shikamaru was surprised at the slip of his tongue. He had thought of her in that light for months, ever since that first sake-laced kiss, but that was the first time he'd said it out loud, even to himself. She might kill him for this.

Temari looked at him, a bit panicked. She wondered when she had become 'Temari-chan', but it sounded so good coming from him that she couldn't be upset about it. In fact she smiled, blushing.

Asuma was suppressing a laugh. It was obvious that he wouldn't be getting his story tonight, but he reckoned that it would be well worth the wait.

Everyone's tangled thoughts were broken off by a sweet female voice. "Asuma? Dinner's ready."

Both Asuma's and Shikamaru's eyes grew wide. "Kurenai?" Shikamaru asked.

Asuma nodded, looking like a child who'd been caught with his hand in the cookie jar. "You're not the only one with a secret."

Shikamaru grinned widely. "I won't tell if you don't."

"Aye… I'll see you for shoji tomorrow."

Shikamaru shrugged and lead a confused Temari away. He paused as they passed by the hospital.

"Where are you staying tonight?"

"At the hospital. It's too late to get a room and Tsunade has guests."

"Do your brothers need you?"

"Someone has to stay with Gaara… just incase…"

"Incase he's weakened enough that he goes to sleep."

She nodded, grateful that he'd been so tactful in his answer.

"Can Kankuro handle it himself?" He sounded nervous.

"I suppose." She wondered what he was getting at.

"Why don't you slip in and tell him that the Nara's offered you a room for the night," the suggestion came out sounding like one long word.

She thought about it for a moment, too long for his liking. "I want to know what happened back there," she insisted, gesturing in the direction of Asuma's.

"Well talk about it. If you decide you've changed your mind you can always come back. I just don't want them worrying."

She bit her lip for a moment and then came to a decision. He watched, slightly awed, as she shifted back into her public persona; the change was visible. She disappeared into the hospital.

Five minuets later she reappeared. Smiling as she shifted back into the softer version of herself. "Our ramen is going to be cold. Let's go."

"How are your brothers?"

"Gaara is still resting. Kankuro is a little miffed that I get an actual bed for the night."

"They don't have a problem with…" he let the rest of his question trail off, unsure of how to end it.

"I don't think they see it that way. They know that I can more than take care of myself. I believe that they think you're brave… bordering on crazy."

"Maybe I am," he said with a smile.

----------

They arrived at his house and he slipped inside to speak with his parents, leaving her on the porch for a moment. Temari anxiously listened to the conversation inside.

"Why two bowls of ramen son?" his mother asked.

"I know it's late, but I brought a guest along home."

"Oh?"

"One of the Sand shinobi. Tsunade has guests, so they were without a place to stay. Gaara is in the hospital and one stayed to keep an eye on him. I offered the other a room here.

His mother seemed a bit put out, "A little warning might have been nice."

His father cut her off. "I'm sure that we can be hospitable for a night or two. Son, don't make her stand out on the porch all night."

"Her?!" his mother squeaked.

"Temari," Shikaku said in a calm, almost amused voice.

Shikamaru opened the door.

"Your father knows?" Temari demanded.

"It's a long story. Come in."

"You have so much explaining to do!"

"I know." He led her into the dining room and introduced her to his parents.

"Thank you so much for your hospitality," Temari said. She wasn't completely relaxed like she was when alone with him, but she hadn't fully retreated into her public persona either.

A moments worth of awkward silence passed. It faintly occurred to Shikamaru that the expression on his mother's face was more than the product of seeing him with a woman. It was mostly because the daughter of the Kazekage was in her home. He'd never seen Temari in that light. It was a difficult concept for him to wrap his mind around. Temari as a powerful kunoichi he understood, but the idea of Temari as the next best thing to a princess caught him off guard. His father's expression was the polar opposite of his mother's. He was grinning widely over his cup of tea.

Surprisingly, Yoshino was the first to speak up. "If you would like I could find you a change of clothes and launder yours for you," she offered hesitantly.

"You really don't need to go to the bother. I'm just very grateful for the room for the night." She was her public self again. He found the difference almost maddening.

"I insist. I'll lay something on the bed for you. Just put those in the hall when you change."

Even Temari knew better than to argue. "Thank you."

His mother excused herself to prepare a room for Temari.

----------

Shikaku was better with small talk than his wife. "So the mission went well?"

Temari smiled at Shikamaru over the last of her ramen, a detail that did not go unnoticed by his father.

"Naruto's a little worse for wear," Shikamaru began, "and Gaara is suffering from exhaustion, but Sakura took care of all the lesser injuries in the field."

"So a success then?"

"Yes."

Temari saw her place to speak up. "We were very grateful to have them on our side." She looked down at her empty bowl and said in the softer version of her voice. "None more grateful than me." She didn't look up in time to see the look that passed from father to son.

After another somewhat awkward pause, in which he finished his dinner, Shikamaru spoke up. "I've got a report to write up for Tsunade. Temari is going to fill in the blanks for me. If you'll excuse us."

"The last thing that you need is Tsunade upset with you. She is definitely the most troublesome woman in Konoha," he agreed

After clearing the table, he gave Temari an abbreviated tour of the house. It looks like you'll be in here," he said pointing at an open door. He showed her where the bath was and then came to his room. "I'll be in here. Take your time."

"I don't get my explanations first?"

He smiled. "Are they more important than a hot bath?" He knew he wouldn't mind having one, but that would come later.

"You're not going to be able to put this off forever," she warned, and then walked back to the spare room to collect the change of clothes that Yoshino had left for her before heading for the bath.

He heard the water turn on and the tub start filling up as he entered his room. The bathroom door creaked open slightly, then came the subtle sound of cloth landing on hardwood, and finally the door was pulled shut and locked. He sat down at his desk and gathered a scroll and his writing set to begin his report. A splashing sound came through the thin wall, followed by a light moan. He could almost see her lowering herself into the hot bath. These were not the thoughts of Temari that usually filled his mind.

He dipped his brush in ink, only to find out that his hand was shaking too much to allow for writing. He sat back in his chair and took a deep breath, wondering what had come over him. A melodic sound drifted through the wall. She was humming a song that he'd never heard. It had to be something from Suna. The patterns of it were all wrong for Konoha. It was captivating.

He took a deep breath and pushed his chair back from his desk. Perhaps now would be a good time to thank his parents for backing up his hospitality.

He found them around the back of the house, watching the herd. "Thank you," he said sincerely.

His parents turned to face him, the looks on their faces made it apparent that he or Temari had been the topic of discussion. "Why is she with you tonight?" Shikaku asked, stressing the word 'tonight'. The look on his wife's face said that she didn't know that her son had the habit of being in the company of the Kazekage's daughter.

"The same reason as the last time. Only this time the rolls were reversed and it was a lot closer."

"I see," he said.

"Well I don't," his mother cut in.

"Shikamaru saved her life," he said softly, with a hint of pride coming through in his voice.

"Narrowly," Shikamaru amended. "And she's good at not letting everyone see it, but she's really not handling it well."

"Poor girl," his mother said, startling them both. It was rare for her to utter anything nearly so empathetic. She paused a moment, as though not quite sure if she should go on. "Shikamaru… What I leant her… It was a gift, but I was never able to wear it… don't ah… don't let it bother you."

Shikaku seemed oblivious to his wife's last statement. "Is she still troublesome?" his dad asked.

"Extremely."

Shikaku laughed. "So we'll be seeing her again." It wasn't a question.

Shikamaru rolled his eyes, tucked his hands in his pockets. And started back toward the house. His father began filling the rest of the blanks in for his mother. Embarrassingly enough, he started with the chunin exams, detailing the match that his mother had not been able to attend. He'd never told Shikaku about how she'd rescued him from Tayuya, but it must had become a matter of public record, because the account that he gave followed Shikamaru's official report nearly word-for-word. His father graciously passed over their conversation about sake and women, only saying that he assumed that she'd stayed with Shikamaru after he'd left the hospital. It was a beautiful half-truth that put him at ease. He returned to the house.

When he entered his bedroom she was already there. She was looking out his window; her hands were spread out on the windowsill. Her damp hair was steaming up the glass.

His breath caught in his throat. He understood his mother's vague warning now. Temari was wrapped in a dark teal silk kimono. The collar, cuffs, and hem were embroidered with light purple leaves. The obi matched the stitching perfectly. The hem fell above her knees, revealing her long, tanned legs. The silk clung to her curves. He'd seen all that before. What made his breathing cease momentarily was the intricate needlework that covered her entire back from the fold of the collar to the knot of the obi. A circle of the same purple leaves that decorated the edge of garment surrounded a pale pink version of his family crest.

He watched all of his dreams of marrying an average woman, having a daughter and a son, and retiring to a simple life of playing shoji fly straight out the window. The logical side of his mind grumbled at the change. The rest of him rejoiced.

She stood still, watching his reflection in the glass. She didn't know why she trusted him so explicitly. His rescue of her had not been the catalyst, or she would have never invited him in the first time. It had to have begun before then. Perhaps it was something that she'd seen in him at the chunin exams. It didn't matter. She knew that she was perfectly safe.

He crossed the room slowly, unsteadily. She smiled as he approached. He hesitated half a step behind her. She didn't quite understand until he reached out, hands shaking for the second time that night, to trace the design on her back. She turned and wrapped her arms around him. The resulting kiss felt like a declaration.

This time she was the one to point to the clock. It was a little past ten. "Your report," she said simply, disengaging herself from his arms. He gave a half smile and sat down at his desk.

Temari lay down with her head at the foot of his bed. Something inside of him felt like it was going to come undone.

She began talking about the events leading up to when the leaf shinobi had arrived. He wrote as she talked. She was terribly thorough. He didn't have to ask a single question. He quickly found that he enjoyed working with her. He probably should have noticed before how much they thought alike. As if he needed another reason to be attracted to her.

They settled into silence as he finished his report. The last words were soon penned and he let the scroll lay open across his desk so the ink would not smudge.

He turned to talk to her, finally willing to answer whatever questions she might have. Business had to come first, and she had recognized that, putting her own wishes aside.

She was sleeping soundly, curled up on her side, looking as peaceful as she ever had. He couldn't suppress his smile.

Not wanting to wake her, he decided to take a quick shower. He gathered a change of clothes and slipped away quietly. The hot water relaxed his muscles, but did little to erase the picture of her at his window that was now etched into his mind.

When he returned to his room, refreshed but not relieved, he found that she hasn't moved at all. For a brief moment he considered lying down with her, but he knew it wasn't a good idea. Weighing his options, he carefully scooped her off the bed and began to carry her to the guest room.

Halfway there she awoke with a start. The sleepy look on her face quickly turned deadly and she shoved hard against his chest, trying to free herself. It only took him a second to realize what the problem was.

"Shh… Temari, it's me."

She looked confused and then reached to gather his damp shoulder-length hair into an impromptu ponytail. "I'm sorry," she said, blushing and dropping his hair.

He laughed at her embarrassment. "It's okay. I barely recognized you that first time."

She smiled and tucked her head into his shoulder, allowing him to take her into the guest room and gently deposit her on the bed. He pulled the light blanket up around her shoulders and watched her nuzzle into the pillows before he finally retreated to his own room.

----------

Shikamaru woke too early the next morning to the feeling that he was being watched. The usually lazy ninja went on high alert, forming the necessary hand seals before he kicked back the blankets.

Temari, who was seated in his desk chair, gasped as his shadows entrapped her.

His sleepy mind processed the scene quickly. "Shit!" he exclaimed as he dropped the jutsu. "Temari, I'm sorry."

"I didn't mean to startle you," she said with a soft smile.

"I still should have. It's a rotten thing to be caught up in.

She moved to sit beside him on the bed. "It's not really so bad. It's like…" she let the sentence trail off, blushing slightly.

"What?"

"It was sort of scary the first time, I'll admit that. But not for the reason that you think."

"Then why?"

"Because it feels like… an embrace. Like you're holding me. Granted, I didn't want caught in it the first time, but I've never been afraid when trapped by you."

He felt himself smirk, "Well that's hardly fair," he said, wrapping his arms around her.

"Why's that?"

"Because your fan scares the hell out of me."

She giggled. It was a terribly un-Temari-like sound that he quickly found himself loving.

"I'm serious! Especially that weasel thing."

"She is a bit intimidating," Temari allowed.

"What time is it?"

"Early. No one else is awake."

"I suppose you want some answers then."

"I decided they're not really that important. But if you want…"

He stretched back out, pulling her along with him. "Dad knows because he was waiting in my room when I got home. I came in through the window after I left you and he was sitting on my bed."

"Oh, no! How much trouble were you in?"

"Trouble? He thought it was hilarious. I stood in front of him for a second and then he asked me if it was the sake or the woman that had me distracted. I didn't tell him anything, but when he found a hair on my vest it didn't take him long to piece it together. It's rare for him to laugh so hard."

"Why did he think it was funny?" asked a clearly confused Temari.

"Because since I was little I swore I wanted a simple life, and here I am falling right into the family curse."

"That sounds awfully superstitious coming from you."

"But it's true. I am."

"So tell me about this curse."

He chuckled. "You're the embodiment of it," he said, pressing a kiss to her neck. "We Nara men; we're all relaxed and easy-going, but we've all got the same problem. We have a penchant for troublesome women."

"Is that so?" she asked, sounding almost cocky.

"Mm-hmm…"

"And I'm troublesome?"

"Obviously."

She couldn't help the smile on her face, but was glad that she couldn't see it.

"Asuma is my sensei, but he's sort of like a second father. I went to see him right after I left Tsunade yesterday. He dropped a lit cigarette on the floor when I told him that I needed some sake for tradition's sake, but he didn't argue much.

"When we returned his stuff, I was the one who got the surprise. I didn't know there was a woman in his life, let alone Kurenia. She's Hinata, Shino, and Kiba's sensei."

"So Asuma knows?"

"Not until he saw you last night."

"So I'm your secret then?"

"Eh… those are the only two who know."

"Good."

"It's not like I'm ashamed. It just seemed… safer."

"I said good. I've not told anyone, though I'm pretty sure it won't take Gaara long to figure it out."

"Great! Just what I need."

"He's mellowed a lot. He's beginning to really understand about caring for people. Naruto taught him that, I think."

"So he won't try to kill me?"

"He enjoys our peace with the Leaf too much for that."

"Good."

There was a long silence as she enjoyed the feeling of his arms and he worked up his courage.

"Temari?"

"Yes?"

"I… I'm going to miss you when you go home."

"Really?" she seemed surprised by his confession and rolled to face him.

"Yes really," he said, pushing a few stray strands of hair from her eyes.

"Write to me?"

Shikamaru hid his smirk by kissing her forehead. "Only if you'll write back."

Temari craned her neck up to kiss his lips.

"Was that a yes?"

"Yes."

"Good. Now, let's go get breakfast. It's going to be a long day."

----------

----------

Yoshino was cleaning the room that Temari had slept in. Shikaku was propped against the doorframe, watching his wife intently.

She threw the kimono that she had lent Temari at her husband. "Get rid of this. Burn it for all I care."

"Why?"

"Because it doesn't fit anyone in this house and no one outside of this family wants something with your crest on it."

"Temari wore it," he said, sounding amused.

"And you'd better hope that she wasn't offended. If everything else wouldn't have been so large on her and I wasn't afraid of offending her by offering her something of Shikamaru's… what was that boy thinking? The Kazekage's daughter? In our house? Is he insane?" she was freaking out as much as she had been internally while the Temari was there.

Shikaku did his best to suppress his laughter until he had walked away. He knew his wife was not seeing the big picture, but he wasn't going to fill her in just yet. He went directly to his son's room. "Put this somewhere where your mother won't find it," he instructed, handing Shikamaru the teal Nara kimono.

"Why?"

"I have a feeling that you'll need it later."

"Whatever," he said, dragging himself away from his desk to tuck it into a box under his bed that was usually reserved for broken weapons.


End file.
